


Forseen

by ofporcelain



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Smut, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-15 16:15:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18076715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofporcelain/pseuds/ofporcelain
Summary: Finding your way to Castle Black had been one of the most difficult and gruesome journeys of the readers life, however, being reunited with her half-brother Jon Snow was worth it. As the eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark she has had to face many tourments throughout the war, but it was nothing compared to the haunting face of the wildling man who assisted her brother.





	1. The Wildling's Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Tormund deserves so much love and I’m so excited to share this with you all! Please be a bit patient with me as I am getting used to writing him. For this story I’m pushing back Sansa’s reunion with Jon, but she is safe with Brienne so please keep that in mind. As usual kudos, comments, and bookmarks are always appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> **Chapter Inspiration: Eyes On Fire by Blue Foundation**

_“I won’t leave you!” You cried, voice breaking as you grasped desperately at Osha, only for her to push you further past the gate._

_Her gaze softened, hands lifting to cup your face. “They’ve taken your brother, my beautiful girl, they will take me next and I can’t let them have you as well.” She leaned over to press a firm kiss to your head. “You take Dusk and run, run as far north as you can. Your brother is on The Wall, he will take care of you._

_“I won’t survive without you.” Your eyes were swelled with tears, breaths coming in harsh intakes as you leaned into her touch._

_“You will, you have the blood of the wolf.” She shook you slightly, squeezing your cheeks firmly before jerking back from you. “Run! Run!”_

Your legs were pumping faster than you could ever recall, heart pounding in your chest as Dusk easily kept your pace. The men behind you whooped in excitement as you continued to dart between the trees. Your supplies had run out nearly a week ago, the few tactics that had been taught to you by your wildling protector being the only means of survival. You were so close. You could make out The Wall past the treeline and hope began to swell in your chest. 

The moment you had stumbled upon the raggedy men who surrounded the campfire you had known things would take a turn for the worst, their hungry gazes assuring seemingly assuring that. Dusk had grown tremendously over the past month and took three of the men down with ease, however, a harsh hit to her side was enough for you to spur into action and call her to run by your side. 

You had reached the line, a few more feet and you would be in the open. Then a dark figure stepped into your path, feet sliding in the snow as you desperately tried to stop, but your body clashed against him. Dusk growled furiously, ember fur standing on edge as the man grasped onto your cloak. 

A whine slid past your lips, fist pounding repeatedly against his chest as you fought against his hold. Your gaze shot up to his face, the vibrant red of his beard and hair would have been striking had it not been for the fear coursing through your veins. Dusk lunged forward, but he was quick to move you forward, seeming to know she would advert her attack. 

His eyes darted across your face, brow furrowed in angry confusion before they darted behind you. His grasp loosened then, pushing you to his side and sending you tumbling into the snow. Then he reached for his sword, grasping the hilt and pulling it free with a ring. You followed his line of sight out to the men who had previously been chasing you. 

The five of them came to a halt, heads tipping as they stared at the man. “We ain’t got no issues with you, wildling.” One of the men spoke, his hand dropping to rest on the hilt of his own blade. “Just give us the girl and we’ll be on our way.”

An amused chuckle rolled from the man, the wildling, you realized as you stared up at him. From a young age you were told the gruesome tales of the people beyond the wall and as a child the fear of them coming to steal you from your bed kept you at night. More often than not Old Nan had to administer a few drops of milk of the poppy just for you to rest. 

It seemed the low sound startled the men as they shared a glance before drawing their weapons. The red haired man attacked first, sword swinging with brute strength, knocking the first man to the ground instantly. You shifted to get to your feet, however there was suddenly a strong grasp around your wrists as one of the men slung their weight down. Your chest was heaving as you scrambled for escape, hands shoving roughly at the snow as his hands wrapped around your neck. The moment your fingertips came in contact with a hard object you jerked, tightly gripping the rock as you smashed it into the mans temple. He fell to the side and you quickly rolled on to your knees, repeatedly bringing the rock down on the mans face as a loud cry ripped from your throat. 

Then the woods were quiet; no more clashing of swords or grunts of pain and the man went limp beneath you. You were startled when Dusk nudged against your hand, though you threaded bloody fingertips through her fur before pushing to your feet. You could see each breath that slid past your lips, stumbling slightly as you gathered yourself. 

A crunch of snow caused your head to snap back, meet the gaze of the red haired wildling once again. Anxiousness shot through your body and the direwolf lowered her chest to the ground as she began growling at the approaching man; his steps faltered ever so slightly, but rather than speak he simply pointed towards the wall. “I need to find Jon Snow.”

The moment the words slid past your lips you regretted them; wildlings were the enemy of the Night’s Watch, the were cruel and vicious folk who would kill anyone south of the wall for amusement. The rift between the two factions was known and revealing your connection to the Watch would surely end in disaster.

His brow furrowed once again before he continued moving forward, though much to your surprise he shoved his long sword back into it’s sheath. “Better get inside then, girl.” His accent was strong and while you could hear the bits of the north it held a twinge you weren’t quite familiar with. 

When you made no sign of moving he rolled his eyes, heavy steps echoing around you as he walked towards the gate. His head rolled back to stare at the top of the wall and after a brief moment a a loud rumble rolled from the gate as it opened. You hesitantly glanced at the man who had twisted to stare at you, motioning towards the entrance. 

After years of avoiding others you did your best to keep from flinching under the gazes of the men in black. You glanced back at the wildling man, whose eyes were still trained on you. Dusk let out a small whine, head tipping to sniff at the air and then there was a white mass of fur rushing in her direction. “Ghost.” You whispered, smile pulling at your lips as the two nuzzled each other. 

“Y/N?” You head snapped forward, mouth falling open as you were met with the gaze of your half-brother. A broken sob slid past your lips, feet pulling from the snow as you threw yourself at him. His arms were wrapped around you instantly, hands fisting at his black tunic. 

After you pulled back to look at him he lifted his hands to cup your cheeks, eyes swarming with emotion as he spoke. “How did you get here? Where have you been?”

“I escaped from Winterfell, Bran and Rickon, they alive too. At least they were when I last saw them.” You took a sharp breath, glancing behind you at the wildling man, “he saved me.”

Jon followed your gaze, though the mans eyes were set on you. “Tormund, thank you.” His tone was genuine and he softly pulled from your grasp, crossing the space to clasp his shoulder. It was then that the red head finally turned to him, giving a single nod in response. 

The events following your arrival were a blur; Jon had immediately taking you into the dining hall, giving you a warm meal before having a bath drawn in his chambers. He had given you a fresh set of clothes and you couldn’t be more thankful to get out of the raggedy dress the clung to your figure. 

The remainder of the night was spent alone, warming by the hearth as Dusk relaxed next to the feather bed. When you finally climbed under the blankets your body ached, the soft material biting at your flesh as you adjusted your position. Visions flashed behind your closed lids, black smoke and fiery locks causing you to toss viciously, the clashing of swords echoed in your ears and a broken and sputtering yell pulled you from your sleep.

You jerked upright, uneven breaths rolling past your lips as you blinked around the sunlit room. Swordplay reached your ears again, however it didn’t hold the same aggression as it did before. With a shaky exhale you pushed up from the bed, holding the blanket to your naked form as you crossed the room to look out to large window. You noticed the men training and sharpening their weapon, but your gaze fell on the wildling who was working at the Blacksmith installation. 

His movements slowed and as if sensing your gaze his eyes lifted up, trailing over the misshapen building before meeting yours. Your breath caught in your throat, hands tightening around the blanket as his head slowly tilted to the side. A knock echoed through the room causing you to jump, gaze jerking back to the door and when you turned to look out the window again, however the red haired man was no longer there. 

“Just a moment.” You blurted out, stepping away from the open glass and reaching out for the clothing Jon had brought you the night before. It took longer than expected, the leather straps of the tunic refusing to fasten as you rushed to get dressed. 

Once you had slid the boot on you jumped towards the door, smiling politely at the man who stood behind it. “Hello,” you greeted, dipping your head as you stepped out, shaking slightly at the cold wind that whipped past you. 

“Lord Commander ask if I’d bring you to eat with him.” He replied quickly, almost shyly as he stepped back to create space between you both. A nod was your only response, allowing him to lead you to the dining room. Much like the previous night the stares of the men were evident; whispers reaching your ears as you followed behind the man you recalled to be Edd. 

It had been a long while since many of the men had seen a woman, let alone one dressed in the Night’s Watch attire and you kept your head high as you climbed the steps to where your brother was. Walking into the room you were enveloped by warmth, cheeks burning at the change. Your gaze fluttered over the two men, Jon and Tormund, who had twisted on the bench in order to look at you. Edd lead you forward, dropping down on the other end of the table and you sat softly next to him. 

“The Wall isn’t safe for you.” Jon said softly, eyes flickering between you and the bowl before him. “I’ve already died for the Night’s Watch, I won’t allow the same for you. 

He had told you of the incident that took place just nights before you had arrive, of his death and arrival. The thought of having missed him striked at your core and you reached across the table to grasp his hand. “I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of a single damned man, within or beyond this wall.”

“The things I’ve seen- the things I’ve faced make them little more than fleas.” Tormund shifted in his seat, eyes trained on your face as you spoke. “I will follow you anywhere, but the North is ours. It runs deep within us both and I don’t want to run anymore.”

“I can’t risk it, Y/N.” Jon’s voice held a heavy tone of exhaustion, hand squeezing yours. “It’s not a fight we’ll win.”

“At least we would fight.” You counted, a low hiss sliding past your lips as you stood from the bench. “The Bolton’s betrayed our brother, they sit in our home and there must always be a Stark in Winterfell.” 

“She speaks like one of us.” Tormund piped in, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Would’ve never guess she’s a Southerner.”

The anger was coursing through you, fists clenching at the seemingly offensive title and you rounded on him. “Southerner or not the more recent years of my life I was raised by a Wildling woman, a woman I loved desperately so don’t think for a moment I don’t have the same fire within me that you do.”

The man didn’t flinch under your gaze, instead he met the intensity with an open face, as if he were willing to take every once of anger and sadness within himself. The room was silent, two sets of eyes flickering between you both and after what felt like eternity Tormund shifted his gaze to your brother. 

“The girl wants to fight, let her.” He grumbled, shifting back in his seat. “Who are you to stop her?”

Jon had grown silent, staring intently at his hands before he let out a sigh. “I have things to settle. Ed, come with me.” 

You dropped back onto the bench, frowning as the two men stood and made their way back out into the cold. The silence allowed you to be lost in your thoughts, gaze turning towards the hearth as you watched the flames dance. 

“Your wildling woman have a name?” 

His voice startled you, drawing your attention back towards the fiery red head. Kissed by fire, your father had once said while holding your sister in his arms. Your eyes closed for a moment, willing back tears as you swallowed harshly. “Her name is Osha, or it was. To be honest I don’t know if she’s alive.” 

“She saved me too many times to count. I-I didn’t want to leave her, I begged to stay, but she smuggled me away from the Umber’s the moment she got the chance.” A shaky breath slid past your lips as you shifted your gaze to meet his. “I never would have made it if it wasn’t for her.”

Tormund kept his gaze trained on your face, no emotion shone in his eyes, but he gave a slow nod in response. You let out a sharp breath, back straightening as you rose to your feet. “If you’ll excuse me I’d like to be alone.” 

You crossed the table, though before you reached the door there was a grip on your wrist. “You want to fight for her.” He grumbled, head tilting as he stood to his full height. “A southern lady would fight for a wildling?”

“I would die for her.” You countered as you craned your neck back to meet his harsh gaze. His eyes narrowed at your words, the hand on your wrist tightening slightly before he released you completely. Nothing else was said as he marched away, heavy footfall leading him out of the room and into the falling snow.


	2. The Wildling's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Jon continues to try and work out the next move for he and his sister, the reader finds herself drawn to the wildling man. Their connection continues to grow stronger despite the fact that they come from two very different worlds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m already so in love with this story & I can’t wait for you all to read it! This chapter is just the start of so much so let me know what you think! As usual kudos, comments, & bookmarks are always appreciated! If you would like to be tagged in future parts please let me know! xxx  
>  **Chapter Inspiration: The Lightning Strike by Snow Patrol**

It seemed no matter how many times you wandered Castle Black the men would always leer at you. With each step you took there was a new gaze and a round of whispers. To their credit they never crossed any boundaries, however that didn’t stop the discomfort that came from their actions. After yet another argument with Jon over where you would go next you had walked down to the courtyard. It was virtually empty aside from a few men who were finishing up a round of training, but your attention was caught by the wildling man who was working at the forge. 

Each night he walked past the gate and while you knew he was returning to the wildlings who resided not from from The Wall, you couldn’t help but be curious. “What’s your camp like?” you asked softly, sliding down to sit on one of the barrels. 

His gaze pulled from the sword he had been sharpening, head tilting as he contemplated an answer. “You wouldn’t like it, southern girl.” He grumbled before focusing back on the weapon before him.

“That’s not what I asked.” You countered, shifting forward slightly. “You don’t know how I’d feel.”

A huff of frustration slid past his lips as he tossed the sword down onto the workbench, turning his full attention to you. “You want to see it?” He asked suddenly, slightly catching you off guard.

If there was one thing to admire about the man it was his dislike of small talk; no matter what the situation he went straight to the point and after years of being sheltered and then years of being silenced you appreciated it. “Jon would never let me.” You replied, shaking your head at the thought. 

“You gonna let him make all your decisions?” He snorted, eyes rolling as he stepped closer to you. “Never woulda guessed you spent the last year with a wildling woman.”

He was testing the waters, determining how far he could push before you snapped back. Your eyes narrowed at him, meeting his gaze dead on as you debated a response. “I don’t think your people would appreciate me barging into their territory.”

“Don’t worry, southern girl, I’d keep you safe from the cruel wildlings.” Tormund’s tone was voice was full with jest and it was clear he didn’t expect a real response from you. 

You pushed off from the barrel, head craning back to look at him as you nodded towards the wall. “Take me then.”

There was a moment of silence, the smile falling from his face as he met your gaze. As you had expected he faltered at your response and it was the first time you had seen the man struggle for words. He took a step back twisting in the snow and walking towards the tunnel, “come on then.”

You stumbled after him, arms crossing over your chest as you allowed him to lead you closer towards the exit. There had been many times that your mouth had gotten you into trouble, though your stubbornness kept you from backtracking. When you the two men of the Night Watch turned their attention towards you smiled politely, though a pressure at your calve caused your gaze to fall down. Dusk tilted her muzzle back to look at you and when she nuzzled against your hand you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Open the fucking gate.” Tormund growled at the men, pulling your attention back to the other men. They looked nervous, eyes darting between you and the wildling man. 

“It’s fine,” you chimed in softly, urging them with your eyes. After a shared glanced they let out a soft breath, one turning the open the gate and allow you to pass. Your direwolf trotted along happily, and you couldn’t help but smile at her joy of being freed from the confinements of Castle Black.

The wind whipped viciously at your face, your eyes watering slightly as you picked up speed to walk next to Tormund. He paid you little mind, eyes trained directly before him. After a brief moment of waiting for him to speak you rose your voice over the wind. “Have you settled to the lands yet?”

“Aye, we just got the tents set, they should be celebrating by now.” 

Your brow furrowed, head twisting in his direction. “Celebrating?” He didn’t give another response, instead nodding his head once before lifting a hand to point before you. You followed the direction, eyes widening as the blur of torches and black smoke rolled between the trees. You could hear the drums echoing across the distance, whoops and cheers causing a confused smile to cross your features. 

The bonfire was massive, much larger than anything you had seen in the north, and there were handfuls of wildlings dancing around it. It seemed as if their happiness was infectious, the fact that they could find such in a thing in all the chaos that surround them baffled you. 

“Tormund, what’s this?” 

Your gaze was pulled from the group to the woman who had crossed the meet you both. The sight of her caused you to pause, face contorting as you watched the flames dance across her features. You knew better, of course, despite the initial similarities she wasn’t the woman you had grown up with the past few years. 

“They don’t have girl crows.” She grumbled, looking between you and the wildling man.

“She’s no crow.” The aforementioned man growled, meeting her gaze head on. “She’s a southern lady, Jon Snow’s sister.”

A scoff slid past her lips, disgust crossing her features as she turned to you once more. “A southern lady.”

You had been called that a handful of times since you had met the red head, but never once had it made you feel inferior. Rather than cower at the remark, you instead mimicked the man and met her gaze. “I’m Y/N.”

There was a tense moment between the three of you and after holding your gaze she let out a sigh. Despite the dislike they felt towards your people, it seemed the name of your brother resonated with her and she stepped back so she was facing you sideways. “You won’t keep warm in clothes that don’t fit. Come on.”

You glanced over to meet Tormund’s eyes and he gave a single nod. It was all you needed to trail behind the woman, eyes glazing over the crowd as she lead you into one of the many tents. It seemed despite the few stone houses that were still livable the Free Folk preferred to stick with what they were comfortable with.

The tent was incredibly warm, your eyes trailing over the furs that lined the interior, though when they turned back to the woman she was digging through one of the chests. She eventually turned to you once again, material grasped firmly in her hands. “These should work better.”

“Oh, thank you.” You replied softly, reaching out to take the clothing from her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”

She rolled her eyes at your pleasantries, “Karga. After your done come out.” With that she marched past you, slipping past the flaps of the tent and vanishing from your view. 

You placed the clothes down on one of the benches before pulling at your gloves. Piece by piece you stripped yourself from the ill-fitting clothes of the Night Watch and replaced them with that of the wildlings. Karga had been right, they were much warmer than the attire you had before, the furs tucked warmly against your figure.

After you had gotten comfortable in the new clothing you turned back to the entrance of the tent, biting at your lip softly as you ducked beneath the flaps. In that moment it felt like every gaze was turned towards you, hand lifting to run along the sloppy twists and braids that plaited your hair as you stepped closer to the fire. The drums echoed in your ears as you glanced around for a familiar face, though when you caught sight of none you ducked your head. 

Then there was a tug at your sleeve, drawing your eyes down to a small girl who was staring up at you. “Oh, hello.” You said softly, knees bending slightly to get closer to her. 

“Karga said you were Jon Snow’s sister.” She replied quickly, head tilting as she stared up at you. 

“I am,” you countered, brow furrowing in slight amusement. “My name’s Y/N.”

She nodded sternly, “I’m Johnna and this is Willa.” You glanced down at the smaller girl who hid behind her sister. 

Tormund’s eyes had stayed trained on you form the moment you had stepped out of the tent, cup lifting so he could drink deeply at the soured goats milk. The flames rolled before him, obscuring the scene of the two girls taking you by the hand and leading you to the dancing group of women. 

“You haven’t stopped staring since you brought her here.” A voice broke out, causing his gaze to flutter between you and the wildling woman. He grumbled in response, taking another swig from his tankard. “She looks good in our furs.”

“She’s a southerner.” He spat, though he didn’t look away.

“If you thought she was so horrible you wouldn’t have brought her.” 

Whatever response bit at the tip of his tongue vanished as you took the hands of the two girls, twirling them in beat with the drums. A laugh slid past your lips and his ears strained in attempt to hear it. His tongue rolled across his bottom lip as you began spinning alongside them, arms outstretched and head titled back as you did so. It wasn’t until you caught his gaze past the flames that you slowed to a stop, hips rocking slightly as you flashed him a small smile. The gaze was no longer than a heartbeat, but it seemed to drag on for hours, until one of the girls grabbed your hand once more and pulled your attention away. 

An almost bitter laugh fell from Karga’s lips, head shaking at she stepped closer to him. “You’re a fool, Tormund, and you’re going to realize it too late.” When he refused to respond once more she let out a sigh, twisting in place and leaving the man to his brooding.

The night continued to drag on and you had spent the majority of the celebration alongside the two girls. You had been saddened to know that they had lost their mother during the attempt to bring the wildlings south of the wall, your heart yearning for the parental figures you had known in your lifetime. As the cheers and drums began to slow to a halt you had taken a seat on one of the carved logs, the spaces to both sides quickly being taken by the young girls. Johnna was clearly the talkative one, Willa had often taken to curling into your side as her older sister spoke, and after the long night of celebrating her eyes began to flutter shut. 

Your attention was lost in the dying flames, though it was still hot enough to keep those surrounding it warm. Johnna had laced her arm through yours, head propped on your shoulder as her younger sister had shifted to lay her head atop your thighs. It wasn’t until a heavy set of footsteps reached your ears that you twisted your gaze to the side. 

Tormund’s expression was masked, eyes glazing slightly as he looked between you and the girls. “It’s time to get you back.” His voice was low and gravelly and you couldn’t help but feel disappointment at his words. 

You glanced down at the girls who had fallen in a deep sleep, a soft laugh sliding past our lips. “Can you help me with them?” 

Wordlessly he reached down to pluck up Johnna, her limp form barely jutting at the movement. You grasped Willa softly, taking in a sharp breath before shifting to your feet. Her small arms wrapped around your neck instantly, a groan of annoyance being her only other response to the shift in position. You followed behind Tormund as he walked past the few remaining wildling, doing your best to ignore the way their gaze lingered on you. However, unlike the way the brothers of the Night’s Watch stared, it seemed theirs was more out of curiosity than attraction.

Once you were lead into the tent you watched as Tormund laid Johnna on one of the empty cots, then turned to pluck Willa from your gasp and lay her next to her sister. You glanced around the tent, brow furrowing as you realized many of those within were children. When you glanced at him with a questioning gaze he simply shook his head and motioned you towards the exit. 

Dusk pranced over to you both, muzzle stained from her last meal, and you allowed her to nudge against your hip. You came to a slow stop, bending at the waist to press a soft kiss to the top of her head, only her attention was turned to the male next to you. As you pulled back to glance at him the direwolf began to creep forward, ears pinned back as she sniffed at his glove. Once she was satisfied she pushed from the snow, bounding forward to lead the way.

“Their parents died when the white walkers attacked.” Tormund grumbled, pulling your gaze back to him. “That’s why there’s so many.”

You grew silent at his words, brow furrowed at you bit at your bottom lip. You adverted your gaze, staring straight ahead as you thought back to your own lost parental figures. Your father, your mother, Osha. You knew the pain of losing someone all too well. 

“I wish it could be different.” You faltered after speaking, mouth opening and closing. There had been too many times that you were scolded for such thoughts. “I’m sorry, I know it’s a stupid thing to say.”

When he failed to give a response you glanced over at him, only to meet his narrowed eyes. His face was contorted in confusion, mouth tense as he thought over his next words. “It’s not stupid to want better, it’s stupid to make someone feel that way over it.”

Not once in your time with him had he put effort in his words, but you could feel the sincerity rolling off him in waves and it caused your cheeks to heat up. The wall came into view rather quickly this time, the colossal object obscuring your view. It seemed the moment you had arrived at the gate it pulled open, torches lighting the path as you walked down the tunnel. 

And then there was Jon, jaw tight and lips forming a pout as he closed the space between you with quick steps. “What were you thinking?” He demanded, causing you to glance around at the other men who had turned their attention to you. 

You struggled for words, the thought of so many prying eyes causing your mouth to bob in response. You had been raised to be comfortable with public speaking, to be strong and confident in your words, but that skill vanished with your past self. Luckily enough a gruff voice spoke out for you. 

“She wanted to get out from behind these walls.” Tormund said, stepping closer to you both. “Why keep her trapped here? She doesn’t belong.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Jon countered, “I’ve been trying to get things in order so I can get her out of here.”

“She’s left alone all day, your men staring at her like she’s a juicy piece of meat. Fucking rapers and thieves.” Tormund had jerked his head to look around at the others. “She asked to see the Free Folk, I took her to them.”

Jon paused at his response, gaze pulling around the courtyard before settling on you once again. “Get inside, Y/N, we’ll talk in the morning.” 

You exhaled sharply, bowing your head as you stepped past him, but a last minute thought caused you to stop. In a wisp of furs you turned around, closing the space between you and the wildling man and rocking onto your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” When you turned back Jon met your gaze with a questioning one, causing you to quickly shuffle past and head to your chambers.


	3. The Wildling's Humanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After your time with the Free Folk you have found yourself drawn to them, though with Jon now watching your every move you haven’t been given the chance to return. However, the arrival of your sister and her protectors introduces a new threat, one that you can’t simply ignore and it will lead to a great battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a fun part to write! I really hope you all enjoy reading this because things are only going to get crazier from here! As usual kudos, comments, & bookmarks are always appreciated! xxx  
> Chapter Inspiration: Wolves Without Teeth by Of Monsters and Men

“You can’t be mad at me forever.” You mumbled, glancing across the desk to your half-brother. He barely lifted his gaze from the parchment before him. He had started packing his things that morning and asked you to help him, after that he grumbled that he needed you to wait in his chambers to talk. Aside from mumbled and nods he hadn’t spoke to you and while you knew why he was upset, it didn’t make his silence any more bearable. 

There was a knock at the door, drawing both of your gazes to the it. Jon raised his voice, enticing the person behind it to come in and Edd peaked his head past the frame. There was an unspoken understanding between them both and the man dropped a satchel on the ground. Jon rose from his seat, clasping the man on the shoulder before he began gathering the rest of his things. 

“Where you gonna go?” Edd asked softly, carrying Jon’s sword over towards the desk. 

“South.” Jon grumbled, glancing up from his things. When asked what he planned to do your brother sighed, “get warm.”

A pained smile crossed his features and as quick as it came it vanished. Edd crossed the room, pressing the sword onto the desk with a thud, but he was careful not to graze you with it. “I was with you at Hardhome. We saw what’s out there, we know it’s coming here. How can you leave us now?”

“I did everything I could, you know that.”

“You swore a vow!”

“Aye, I pledged my life to the Night’s Watch and I gave my life to the Night’s Watch. They killed me, Edd, my own brothers! You want me to stay here after that?”

A horn echoed throughout the compound caused you to perk up in your seat. Jon and Edd were the first to walk out, you took a moment to adjust yourself before following along. You slipped past them to glance over the railing and the scene that met your eyes caused your breath to catch in your throat.

With swift feet you bounded down the stairs, rushing forward to throw your arms around the red headed girl. She clung to you desperately, a sigh of relief sliding past her lips as you held her. Then there was another set of arms around you both and you were pulled into Jon’s chest. A happy cry fell from your lips as you pulled back, cupping her face in your hand. She had always been the spitting image of your mother, but it seemed as time went on it grew uncanny. 

You pressed a loving kiss to her cheek before taking her gloved hand in yours, turning to lead her out of the cold. As you did so you caught the hesitant and curious gaze of Tormund, flashing him a small smile before pulling your sister up the steps and back into the chambers. 

Jon had given you time to speak to one another, discussing all that had happened in your time apart, and when her voice broke as she spoke about her time with Ramsey Bolton a pit of anger swelled in your stomach. 

Eventually your brother joined you, giving you each a bowl of war stew before sitting next to Sansa. “This is good soup.” She said softly, glancing over at him. “Do you remember those kidney pies Old Nan used to make?”

“With the peas and onions?” Jon asked, a smile playing at his lips.

A giggle slid past your lips as you spoke up, “I don’t think I’ve had anything that good in a while.”

A solemn silence fell over the three of you as you turned your gaze towards the fire. The memories from your early childhood swarmed your mind and you couldn’t help but bite at your lip to keep from tearing up. 

“We never should have left Winterfell.” Jon said softly.

Sansa lowered her bowl with a soft sigh, “don’t you wish we could go back to the day we left? I’d scream at myself don’t go you idiot.”

“How could we know?” You finally spoke, glancing over at them. 

“I spent a lot of time thinking of what an ass I was to you both.”

A laugh slid past your lips as you shook your head. “We were all terrible and spoiled.”

“I was awful just admit it.” Sansa chimed in lightly.

“You were occasionally awful. I couldn’t have been much fun, always sulking in the corner while the rest of you played.” 

With soft laughter you all forgave one another for your past actions, the giggles only growing louder when Sansa took a sip of the ale and began to choke. “Where will you go?” Your sister asked softly.

“Where will we go.” Jon countered looking between you both. “If I don’t watch over you both fathers ghost’ll come back and murder me.”

“Where will we go?” Sansa corrected.

“We can’t stay here, not after what happened.”

“There’s only one place we can go. Home.”

Jon scoffed softly, “what should we tell the Bolton’s to pack up and leave?” 

“We’ll take it back from them.” You chimed in, leaning closer to them both.

Jon rocked back to look at you, “I don’t have an army.”

“How many wildlings did you save?” Sansa counted, meet his gaze directly.

“They didn’t come here to serve me.”

“They owe you their lives. You think they’ll be safe here if Roose Bolton remains Warden of the North? Winterfell is our home. It’s ours and Arya’s and Bran’s and Rickon’s wherever they are it belongs to our family we have to fight for it.”

Jon pushed from his seat. “I’m tired of fighting. It’s all I’ve done since I left home. I’ve killed brothers of the Night’s Watch, I’ve killed wildlings, I’ve killed men that I admire, I hung a boy younger than Bran. I’ve fought and I lost.”

It was then that you rose to your feet, making your way over to them. “If we don’t take back the North we’ll never be safe.”

“I want you to help us, but we’ll do it ourselves if we have to.” Sansa spoke once more.

A quiet fell over you once again and Jon let out a sigh, “we can talk about it more tomorrow. We all need to get some rest.”

The next few days dragged on slowly, the tension between you still lingering, but you had taken to enjoying the time as a family nonetheless. You were sat within the dining area between Tormund and Jon, only lifting your gaze from you food when Edd apologized for the food. 

You jumped slightly when the door was jerked open, your frame pressing against Tormund as you turned to look at the Night’s Watchmen who made his way over to the table and held a scroll out to your brother.

With a furrowed you glanced at the seal, dread filling you as you watched Jon unroll the parchment. “To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow, you let thousands of wildlings past the wall, you have betrayed your own kind, you have betrayed the north, Winterfell is mine bastard come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon..”

Your breath caught in your throat, mouth falling open as you began to fight for air. While you were aware that the Umber’s were traitorous, you never believed they would had him over to the same people who murdered your family. A firm hand touched your side and you almost jumped from the contact, though after a moment you relaxed against the wildlings touch.

“His direwolfs skin is on my floor come and see. I want my bride back, send her to me and I will not trouble you and your wildling lovers, keep her from me and I will slaughter every wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection.”

Tormund shifted against you, turning towards Jon fully at the mention of his people. You took the opportunity to lean against him, head tilting back as your brother continued to read the letter. 

“You will watch as I skin them living, you-” He cut himself off, tossing the parchment to the table and shifting back with a sigh. “It’s just more of the same.”

Both you and Sansa reached for the scroll, your sister grabbing it first as she began reading the rest. “You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sisters, you will watch as my dogs devour your little brother, then I will spoon your eyes from your sockets and let my dogs do the rest come and see. Ramsey Bolton Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North.”

“Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North?” You repeated, brow furrowing at the signature. 

“His father’s dead, Ramsey killed him and now he has Rickon.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes we do.” You countered, shifting closer to your brother. “That’s who the Umber’s wanted to give us to.”

It was then that Tormund spoke, “how many men does he have in his army?”

“I heard him say five thousand once when he was talking about Stannis’ attack.”

Jon turned towards the wildling man, “how many do you have?”

He let out a long sigh, the warm air hitting your neck and sending chills down your spine. “That can march and fight? Two thousand., the rest are children and old people.”

“You’re the son of the last true Warden of the North. Northern families are loyal, they’ll fight for you if you ask.” Sansa reached out and grasped his hands, “a monster has taken our home and our brother. We have to go back to Winterfell and save them both.”

Jon wordlessly responded, head nodding strongly and you let out a sigh of relief. The planning began rather quickly, Jon turning to Ser Davos who began mapping out the houses and the territories. Your brother had been set on leaving you within Castle Black alongside your sister as he went with Tormund to speak to the Free Folk, but you had objected instantly. After a drawn out argument he finally agreed to let you both accompany him.

Sansa had made you a dress and despite all that you had been through it pleased you to know that some things were the same. You had gotten dressed quickly, scurrying out to the courtyard as you made your way to your horse. “Never seen someone so happy about a battle.”

Your eyes pulled back to Tormund who had grasped the reigns of your mare, a smiling playing at your lips at his words. “I’m happy to be doing something.” You responded cheekily, “I’m happy at the thought of returning to my home.” 

He grunted in reply, motioning towards your horse and you gave a nod before placing a foot on in the stirrup. He then grasped your hips, pushing you onto the beast before going to climb upon his own. The ride to the Wildling Camp went much faster than when you had walked it and the moment you slid off your horse you were enveloped by small arms. 

Johnna and Willa smiled up at you, speaking in fast sentences before pulling you deeper within the camp. A soft laugh slid past your lips as you glanced back towards the others, Jon’s face was twisted with confusion as you let them lead you away and before he could speak Tormund slapped him on the back, muttering something under his breath before steering him towards the other men. 

You couldn’t be sure how long you were sat in the tent playing with the girls, but it was long enough for the other children to grow interested and join you. They had spoke freely of their parents and how they died, sadness laced in their tone and you felt your heart ache for them. 

The tent was full of laughter and excitement, your back turned to the entrance as the children ran around excitedly. They had taken to showing you their things and while most of it was nothing more that sticks and straw you cooed with appreciation at each toy that you were presented. It wasn’t until they quieted to a stop, eyes glancing behind you, that you twisted around. Both Tormund and Jon were stood at the mouth of the tent and you blushed slightly under their stares. You bent at the knee, handing the makeshift doll back to one of the younger girls before bidding them all farewell. 

“Is it done?” You asked softly, crossing the floor so you stood before the men. They nodded in response and you followed them out. 

It was much more difficult to convince the other houses to fight alongside you, and after all your hardships it was still clear that there wasn’t enough to take back Winterfell. However, the possibility of gathering more allies has come to an end and it was time to meet the man who had stolen your home. 

Your horse trotted between your siblings and when Jon pulled his to a stop you did the same. He had told both you and Sansa repeatedly that you didn’t need to be present, but you wished to face the man who had abused her. You were a Stark, the blood of the wolf and the First Men pumped in your veins and you wouldn’t allow such a man to get by without hearing your voice.

When the ground came into view you stiffened in the saddle, grasping the reigns as you gaze at the man you knew to be Ramsey Bolton. A cruel smiled pulled at his lips as he met each of your eyes, “my beloved wife, I’ve missed you terribly. Thank you for returning Lady Bolton to me. Now, dismount and kneel before me, surrender your army, and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will pardon you for deserting the Night’s Watch, I will pardon these treasonous lords for betraying my house. Come, Bastard, you don’t have the men, you don’t have the horses, and you don’t have Winterfell. Why lead those poor souls into slaughter? There’s no need for a battle. Get off your horse and kneel. I am a man of mercy.”

“You’re right, there’s no need for a battle. Thousands of men don’t need to die, only one of us. Lets end this the old way, you against me.” Jon leaned forward against his horse, staring directly at the man before him. 

Ramsey began to laugh, head shaking as he spoke. “I keep hearing stories about you, Bastard. The way people talk about you you’re the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good, maybe not. I don’t know if I’d beat you, but I know my army will beat yours. I have six thousand men, you have what? Half that? Not even.”

A low scoff slid past your lips, drawing the striking gaze of the man in your direction. “Does that amuse you?” He asked, his words laced with a challenge.

“How many of your men will want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn’t fight for them?” You asked, head held high as you met his eyes. 

His smile faltered slightly, his chest raising with a deep breath as he shook his head. “I’ve heard much about you as well from Lord Umber here,” he began, nodding towards the large man. “He said you were as wild as your wolf, but now I can see it. I look forward to having more time with you.”

The cruel intentions lurking behind his words caused your lips to turn in disgust. “And I look forward to seeing your head removed from your shoulders.”

A loud laugh slid past his lips, “oh you’ll be so much fun! I can’t help but wonder how things would have gone had I been wedded to you rather than your fine sister. I’m sure my dogs would have enjoyed you thoroughly.”

His words caused a shift throughout those around you and your ears perked at the low growl that came from your left. You allowed yourself to glance back with the corner of your eye, watching as Tormund shifted forward, hands taut on the reigns of his horse.

“Nonetheless, will you let your little brother die because you’re too proud to surrender?” His eyes had turned back to Jon, the grin wiped completely from his lips. 

It was then that Sansa spoke. “How do we know you have him?”

Ramsey slowly looked towards Smalljon, nodding once and the man dug into his saddlebag. With a thump the head of Rickon’s direwolf rolled before you and your jaw clenched as you stared in its lifeless eyes. He began to speak again, but he was cut off by your sister. “You’re going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton, sleep well.”

You jerked your horse to follow behind hers, exhaling a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding as you returned to the campsite. Once you had climbed from your mare one of the men took the reigns and you rushed to your tent, desperate for the warmth and comfort it held.

When the others returned and gathered around the map you had stayed quiet, eyes set on the ground as they began explaining their plan of attack. After they were done you rose to your feet, reaching out to squeeze your sisters hand before making your way out into the cold. 

Your arms arms wrapped around your middle as you glanced around the camp and when they landed on Tormund walking away from Ser Davos you moved to block his path. “May I speak with you?” You asked and when he gave a single nod you shook your head. “Privately.” 

There was a moment of silence, his eyes searching yours before he turned on his heels and lead you towards his own tent. He pulled back the flap of fabric, giving you space to walk inside before following along after you. The small hearth in the center was the only source of light and when you turned back to him the flames flickered across his face.

Words caught in your throat as you stared at him with a furrowed brow, hands wringing before you before you took a small step forward. “The chances of us winning the battle are slim.” You spoke softly, “and I’ve realized that I never thanked you for what you did when you found me outside the gates of Castle Black.” He scoffed in response, shoulders shrugging as he held your gaze. “I don’t want to miss my chance so thank you, Tormund.”

“A beautiful southern lady offering her thanks to a wildling.” He grumbled, “who’d have thought.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, gaze dropping to the ground as you did your best to keep from showing your embarrassment. Your chest swelled with an unfamiliar emotion and you suddenly wished you hadn’t sought him out after the meeting. When you finally glanced back at him his gaze was trained on your face. His pupils flared as you met his eyes and it felt like an eternity has passed before you spoke again. 

“Alright, I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.” You bowed your head once again, sliding past him towards the flaps, and then there was a firm grasp on your upper arm that stopped you instantly. You whirled around to face him once again, words on the tip of your tongue, but they were drowned as he crushed his mouth against yours. You lost yourself in the embrace, body stiffening against him and as quick as he was there he pulled back.

Your eyes flicked across his face, brows knitting as you searched his gaze. Your heart was pounding in your chest, the beat ringing in your ears and instinct seemed to take over as you jumped forward. His hands wound around your waist, pulling you flush against him as you pressed your lips sloppily against his. Your arms wound around his neck and he began walking forward, only stopping when your back was pressed against the wooden column that held the tent up. 

His teeth dig softly into your bottom lip, causing you to gasp and he took advantage of it by sliding his tongue into your mouth. Your eyes had fluttered closed and you did your best to keep up with his movements, fingers raking against his scalp as you arched against him. It wasn’t until a group of soldiers walked past the tent, their laughter echoing around you, that you separated from one another. 

You were panting at this point, eyes still shut as you leaned forward to rest your forehead against his chest. For a brief moment he stiffened against you, however his head eventually dipped to rest atop of yours. “You have to come back” You whispered, eyes slowly opened as you craned your neck to look at him. “You don’t get a choice, y-you have to come back.”

“Aye,” he replied, a soft chuckle vibrating from his chest. “I don’t plan on dying tomorrow, southern girl.” 

You let out a huff at his reply before untangling yourself from him. After another glance in his direction you turned on your heels and walked out of the tent. Your ears continued to ring as you thought about the events that would occurred the following day and while it had been far too long since you had prayed, that night you spoke to the Gods.


End file.
